


after the dark comes the stars

by politicalmamaduck



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Exile, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 06:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16299947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/pseuds/politicalmamaduck
Summary: They lived, though officially they died on Scarif.Jyn Erso still had not killed Orson Krennic. She didn’t even hate him anymore. She was tired of hating, tired of being exhausted, tired of fighting the way she had her entire life.





	after the dark comes the stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImpShip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpShip/gifts).



> Written for impship in honor of her donation to AO3's semi-annual fundraiser! She requested canonverse Jynnic with a deviation that they somehow didn’t die, and hot for each other but still mad at each other. I hope I did your prompt justice!

They lived, though officially they died on Scarif. 

When the dust settled, two bitter and broken men and a young woman, all raised by war and anger, landed on a deserted planet, far from the Empire or the Rebellion, kyber crystals and advanced weaponry. 

One of the men returned to civilization, to the war and the only home he had ever known. 

The other man and the woman remained, eyeing each other warily. She did not try to kill him again, as she had on Scarif. Surviving the blast had taken that fire out of her, when she saw how casually and carelessly the Empire would sacrifice its own people, its own history, for a supposed victory that gained them nothing but time. She had served her purpose. She relayed her father’s message; she rebelled, and built a battle out of hope. 

Her purpose served, she had nothing left to give. The Rebellion had been her mother’s cause, the cause that wanted her father to die, to pay the final price for his sins. Jyn Erso had lost both her parents to the galactic struggle; she had made certain they were avenged, and now, all that remained was the final target for her revenge. She would not allow an impartial justice, a Rebellion show trial for him. 

And so she waited and watched the man she hated for most of her life, wanting to make him suffer in exile the way she had suffered for so long. Death would be too good for him now, she decided. He would wait for it now, since they both had survived its siren call on Scarif. 

Even on their seemingly deserted planet of exile, Cassian managed to get word to her that the Rebels destroyed the Death Star a scant few days after they had arrived and he returned to the Rebellion, led by a reckless and courageous young pilot, but not before an entire planet was vaporized with it. 

Alderaan. Jyn heard stories about Senator Organa from her parents, and by now everyone had heard of his rebel princess daughter.   


_ Come back. We could use you. You should meet Skywalker, and the Princess. Let him stand trial.  _

Jyn had cried all her tears on Scarif. She had none left for Alderaan, nor for joy at the destruction of her father’s creation. 

Instead, she turned to Orson Krennic when he returned from checking their traps for game, his wounded arm at his waist in a sling of her making, and simply said, “It’s gone.”

He didn’t ask how, or when, but only if Grand Moff Tarkin or Lord Vader were aboard at the time. 

She shrugged her shoulders. Cassian didn’t say. She didn’t care about his petty rivalries in the Empire. He said nothing more that day, and neither did she, both lost to ghosts and memories, haunted by their failures and inability to not care. 

 

* * *

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. 

Jyn Erso still had not killed Orson Krennic. She didn’t even hate him anymore. She was tired of hating, tired of being exhausted, tired of fighting the way she had her entire life. She was tired of nightmares filled with green flashes and dirt and dust surrounding her, the sound of stars screaming.

She wasn’t even pleased to note he had nightmares too, and slept as little as she did. 

So she didn’t hate and she didn’t fight. She slept outside, blanketed by the stars, and eventually the whole night through. Her clothes were becoming threadbare, and so were his. They foraged for fruits, vegetables, and roots along with the traps they created in their first few days. It was quiet, and far too peaceful altogether. It was almost as if there wasn’t a war raging around them, as if the wider galaxy had ceased to exist the way they had. They hardly spoke, barely even looked at each other, unless Krennic did something stupid again, not knowing how to survive in the wilderness outside Imperial order, and Jyn rolled her eyes, reminding him that she hated him and that she could kill him.

But she didn’t hate him anymore, and she didn’t kill him. She decidedly did not notice the way he looked at her, the ways in which he attempted to be useful, to learn from her experiences making do with so little. She silently helped him with his wound, and his quiet “Thank you” became softer and gentler each time, their hands lingering.

After about three standard months, Cassian dropped off supplies. Blankets, new clothes, and somehow, a bottle of lum was hidden in the pile. Jyn hadn’t had lum since she was with Saw Gerrera, and somehow, that was enough to make her feel something again. 

After they sorted through the supplies, she took a swig straight from the bottle, and handed it to him. “Here,” she said, and somehow she could tell by the look in his eyes he knew it was her version of a peace offering. 

He took a step closer to her, and took the bottle. He too took a swig, then handed it back to her. 

They sat outside as the sun set over the trees, passing the bottle back and forth, a new blanket over Jyn’s shoulders, his arm finally healed and free of the sling. 

They were halfway through the bottle when he kissed her. 

It had been a long time since Jyn was kissed, and even then, it was more fumbling, youthful explorations than a proper, passionate kiss. She found she didn’t mind, that she liked the feeling of his hand in her hair, the other at her hip, pulling her closer as she kissed back. She liked the feeling of him, the taste of him, the way he moaned as she nipped at his ear. 

He scooped her up in his arms surprisingly easily, one hand under her shirt, and carried her inside. He pulled her shirt off first, unwrapped her breast band, and drank in the sight of her. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky with the lum and desire. 

“You’re drunk,” she teased, pulling him down on top of her for another kiss. 

“Am not,” he said into the side of her neck as he kissed there, fumbling at her waistband as he did. 

Jyn Erso laughed for the first time in years at that, and pulled off Orson Krennic’s shirt. His skin had tanned since they arrived on the deserted planet, subjected to the elements rather than the pristine artifice of Imperial spaceships. His hands were rough from collecting wood and checking their traps, but gentle as he held her close. 

After they succeeded in removing the rest of each other’s clothing, she pushed him back down onto their makeshift bed and straddled him, savoring the way he looked at her, the way he took her breasts in his hands as she ground her hips into him, the way it felt when she guided him inside. 

Later that night, as he lay at her side, his arms still around her, his face nestled in her shoulder, Jyn Erso lay awake looking at the stars through the small window in their meagre dwelling, and licked her lips, tasting blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my dear friend Celia (crossingwinter) for betaing this for me. Please do let me know what you think, and come talk to me on Tumblr as well!


End file.
